End of Heartache
by Sfortuna
Summary: Kate's death brought on more feelings than simple sorrow. After all, how good are a geek and a playboy at communicating their emotions? McNozzo.
1. My Only Desire

**Disclaimer:** I am neither the creator or producer or director or anything of the magnificent NCIS. So obviously I don't own or hold rights to it. This here is a work of utter and complete fiction except for the bits that I transcribed from episodes.

**Spoilers:** 3x02 "Kill Ari (Part 2)"

**-NCIS-**

_You know me, you know me all too well_

_My only desire – to bridge our division_

"Told you she looked good." Tony crossed the morgue and dropped a hand on McGee's shoulder. "Probie wouldn't believe me Kate. Thought you'd look like _Return of the Living Dead_."

"Did not." McGee softly replied, not looking away from Kate's body. Tony's hand fell away and he went to stand on the opposite side of the drawer.

"Don't lie to the dead McGee. It's not nice."

"I was a little afraid."

"Kid was terrified." Tony grinned, though it lacked its usual luster. "But it took a lot of guts to come down here, alone. Showed how much he cared for you."

"I really did like you Kate." McGee paused, catching any sounds of sorrow in his throat. "A lot."

Tony pulled the sheet back over her head and helped McGee push her back into the storage cabinet. McGee continued to stare at the closed door, his mind continuously going over the fact that it was Kate in there; but, Kate was no longer alive.

"It's okay McGee." Tony said, putting his hand back on McGee's shoulder, only more gently this time. He gently squeezed, showing his support. Just because McGee had seen death before did not mean that he was prepared for the death of one of their own.

"Thanks Tony." McGee replied, slumping in place.

Neither teased each other; they just stood for a while, staring at their smudged reflections in Kate's morgue cabinet but not really seeing it. Tony and McGee were at peace with each other for once. Eventually Tony pulled McGee away, knowing that there was such a thing as brooding for too long.

On the way to the funeral, their strange sort of camaraderie continued, if somewhat muffled. They joked a little with each other, and Tony reminisced about when he, Kate, and Gibbs rode on the Gulf Stream to Gitmo. The Director chuckled quietly at his Tony's re-telling of the iguana incident; Abby questioned what Kate said when she found out that Tony slept in the nude; and Ducky tried to wander into a story of his own about a roommate of his in Edinburgh Medical School that slept naked. Other than the joking with Tony, McGee was silent most of the trip, putting in monosyllable answers when spoken to.

McGee and Tony sat next to each other at the funeral. Every once in a while they would look at each other; Tony would give him a small grin and the corners of McGee's mouth would ever so slightly turn up. While others teared up around them, including Abby and Ducky, Tony and McGee stayed dry-eyed.

After placing their roses on Kate's coffin, Abby paused by the grieving family. As Tony and McGee neared, she walked away and the sounds of New Orleans jazz broke into the bright Indiana afternoon. The boys smiled; they both loved jazz, though their tastes differed by a few decades. McGee felt his eyes well with tears but he blinked them away. Tony laughed aloud, and it was choked short by a gentle sob.

They followed the brass instruments to the limo and climbed in, relaxing into the leather seats. Ducky blew his nose, Abby wiped at eyes that had started to leak again as the jazz played, Gibbs stared quietly out the tinted window, and the Director had taken out her cell phone and softly spoke into it. It was silent enough in the vehicle that everyone could understand her conversation; she was checking up on how the agency was politically handling the murderer, Ari Haswari.

Tony had closed his eyes and laid his head back into the headrest. He let the cool leather seep into the skin of his neck and chill his heated flesh. McGee sat next to him, but he was more hunched into the seat than sprawled like Tony.

Their knees touched through their pant legs. The sides of their pinkies from where their hands rested at their sides rubbed together as McGee's hand compulsively twitched. Tony didn't bother to get up the strength to move away from McGee. They both derived comfort from the small amount of human contact they had with the other.

The limo lurched into motion, headed for the airport where the private plane waited for them.

Director Shepard hung up. "You all have the week off. Unfortunately, Doctor Mallard and Abby will have to be on call for the first two days while your substitutes get settled."

No one replied.

**-NCIS-**

Tim McGee sat at his writing desk, staring at his typewriter.

"Stop it Tim." he grumbled to himself. He sniffed and tapped his fingers on the wooden desk.

He stared some more at the typewriter and its blank piece of paper.

"I said stop it!" he yelled at himself and pounded his fist on the desk. McGee sobbed helplessly and crossed his arms in front of the typewriter, laying his head on it.

"Oh Kate," he moaned. "I'm in such a mess."

McGee cried for a good five minutes before the tears started to slow. He stood and wobbled to the single bathroom. He turned on the cold tap and cupped his hands, letting them fill and splashing his face with it. He did this several times until his cheeks quit burning and the tears only occasionally leaked out. McGee turned off the water and leaned over the sink. He dripped onto his sink counter.

"Oh Kate, if you were here you'd be laughing. That or hating my guts."

McGee stared into the mirror. His cheeks had high spots of color despite the cold water and his eyes were red rimmed. The rest of his face was paler than usual.

"Somehow, I think you would have minded all that much, even though you are Catholic. You aren't as straight-laced as you let Tony think you are." He watched himself talk, watched his mouth move and his lips form the words. He stared into his own eyes and found nothing there worth wanting.

"Oh my God, Tony. I hate you Tony. I hate you so much." he whispered.

**-NCIS-**

Tony DiNozzo lay on his couch, watching a rare _Magnum P.I._ marathon. There were two empty beers on the floor by the couch, and a half empty one dangling from his semi-limp fingers. The other hand was cradled against his chest. The hand that held the pinkie that rubbed against McGee's pinkie. The hand that held the pinkie that had been warmed by McGee's skin when the rest of Tony had gone cold.

The show was muted. Tony didn't want his ears distracted, just his mind, and so the apartment was relatively quiet. If Tony were to listen, the only sounds he would hear would be the air kicking on and off and the muffled sound of traffic.

"Probie, why did you go and do a thing like that." Tony muttered. He brought the neck of the beer to his mouth and gulped some of the lukewarm alcohol. He frowned at the temperature but didn't bother to get up and get a cold one, or even put some ice in a cup to pour the beer in.

Twenty minutes later the episode ended and the credits rolled. Tony had finished off the beer and added the bottle to the others that sat next to the couch. His eyes were at half-mast, staring but unseeing at the large plasma that Tony had splurged on not long ago.

"You're a thorn in my side McGoo. Always bumbling around. Annoying Abby. Ganging up on me with Kate." His eyes closed and as had intermittently happened ever since Tony lay down on the couch a few tears dripped out of the corner of his eyes. Sometimes Tony was aware of it and at others he was completely oblivious. This time he was aware and self-consciously rubbed his face into the throw pillow on his couch.

"Oh Kate, you would be laughing your ass off right now. You might even fall out of your chair like you always thought I would."

Tony faced the TV again and opened his eyes, attempting to watch the show. But Magnum had lost its glory and glamour this night to Tony so he closed his eyes and waited out his dripping tears. When they finally finished he opened his watery eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling. At some point he had rolled onto his back. Tony brought his hands to his face and rubbed vigorously, hoping to drive away the sorrow and the crying and the hopelessness that had settled in his gut during the flight back to D.C. All he got was a sore face.

He reached out and grabbed the remote, turning the TV off. Tony stood and picked up the beer bottles and went into the kitchen to throw them away. He dropped them in, mindless of the clinking. The sound made him think in metaphors, of what his heart sounded like when it hit the floor when he saw Kate die.

Tony reached into the trash can and pulled out one of the bottles that he had just thrown away. He tossed it in the air, watched it spin around, and caught it in the same hand. He tossed it in the air one more time, and as his hand recoiled from catching it the second time he brought his arm back and hurled the empty glass bottle. It flew across the kitchen and smashed into the wall by his bedroom doorway.

That sound was more like what he was feeling right now. The splintering, tinkling, shattering feeling was his heart realizing that he liked McGee.

"Dammit Probie! I'm not the literary type, to be thinking in metaphor!" he yelled at the dented wall and the shards of beer scented glass.

**-NCIS-**

How's that for a first go? This story is utterly and completely finished. I will update it every other day until all the chapters are up.


	2. Misery of Being Without You

**Disclaimer:** I am neither the creator or producer or director or anything of the magnificent NCIS. So obviously I don't own or hold rights to it. This here is a work of utter and complete fiction except for the bits that I transcribed from episodes.

**Spoilers:** 3x08 "Under Covers"

**-NCIS-**

_Sleep brings release and the hope of a new day_

_Waking the misery of being without you_

McGee caught sight of the messy bed. The pillows rumpled, the sheets mussed, and the comforter pushed to the foot and mostly hanging off onto the floor.

"Would you like me to have the maid make up the bed for you, sir?"

"Oh, that won't be necessary." Tony replied, swinging his bathrobe tie like a chain or a piece of rope.

"Oh, and could you check the mini bar. We'd like it to be restocked with Red Bull." Ziva interjected.

"Red Bull."McGee eyed her curiously and somewhat questioningly. "That'll keep you up all night ma'am."

"Exactly." Ziva teased.

McGee continued to check for bugs and finally found one on a side table. He pointed it out to his two coworkers and went over to the room service cart and picked up a service platter. He took off the cover and faced them saying, "Please accept this assortment of cheeses, compliments of the hotel." and he covered the bug with the silver cover.

"If you whisper you should be okay." he informed the two.

McGee went about his work, watching Tony out of the corner of his eye. He couldn't help it; his eyes were drawn in by all the skin that was showing. And when he caught a glimpse of Tony's package he had to bite back a verbal response. As it was he was lucky to be able to roll his eyes and turn away. Just that peek had made him semi hard, even if he was in the presence of super ninja Ziva and on the job.

When he finally left it took the whole trip to the elevator and down to the kitchen for his erection to leave. McGee breathed a sigh of relief and went to take up his position in the dining room.

**-NCIS-**

McGee was scared. Granted, there were very few days at work where he didn't get at least a little worried, which would turn into stomach churning concern. On the days that the concern ratcheted up to fear were days that McGee would spend the night crunching stomach soothers or drinking Pepto.

So as McGee followed Gibbs to the room where Tony was still held he prepared himself for the worst even though his insides were trembling and clenching. He held his Sig steady and felt the wave of fear crest as he entered the room behind Gibbs. The fear ebbed as he saw Tony kicking the crap out of the last of his captors and he finished clearing the room as Ziva calmed Tony down.

"I want a divorce." Tony said, glaring. McGee gasped at the cut and bruises and blood on his face. Thankfully, Gibbs was too busy chuckling and Ziva was too busy getting Tony out of his binds.

Gibbs gave orders, which meant that McGee had stuff to do, which meant that he had to leave Tony in Ziva's tender care. By the time he finished it was evening and Tony wasn't back yet.

"This is the last of the evidence Abby." he said as he set yet another box of evidence down in Abby's lab.

"Oh good! Gibbs just called, he's almost here with Tony. He wants me to get Ducky to double check him. You know Gibbs, he doesn't trust doctors, even the ones at Bethesda."

McGee mumbled some sort of agreement as he followed Abby to the morgue, Chip trailing behind them and for once with nothing bad to say about Tony always getting into trouble. They caught Ducky straightening his tie in the mirror. They let him know about Tony and brought him up to the bullpen. They had just gotten settled in to wait when the elevator dinged and Gibbs, Ziva, and Tony exited. Gibbs wandered off while Ducky, Abby, Chip, and McGee got up and crowded around the desk. Tony settled in and leaned back in his chair with a groan. Ducky leaned in and gently prodded a couple of spots on Tony's face, but otherwise just looked. He went on to say something about the ER as they all looked on. Tony sat up and pulled the two pieces of Kleenex that he had stuffed his nose with out.

McGee tried to look uncaring and standoffish, but it came off as more kind of constipated. Around him the conversation continued, talking about how many times Tony was hit (seven according to Ziva, which made McGee's insides quiver and his teeth grind) and about his car (Abby: I had Chip pull your car right around front. Tony: He drove my car?) and then Ziva offered to drive him home.

"Probie?" Tony pleaded.

"Ah, Ziva, actually I should probably drive him home tonight." McGee said, trying to save Tony and get to spend time with him.

"Why is that?" Ziva asked.

"Uh, maybe he wants to live." Abby interjected, quite truthfully.

Ducky went on to prescribe some aspirin as he touched Tony's head, which made him cringe down into his desk chair with a rather large grimace and "Ow," of pain. At the mention of Scotch, Gibbs reappeared and started to question Ducky's prescription. When they started on ballet McGee thought it would be safe to grab some more looks at Tony. He was tenderly touching the same spot that Ducky had just probed. Even though Tony could be a whiner, McGee was certain that this time there was little to no exaggeration of how much he hurt.

The team looked up at the stairs to the upper floor, so McGee thought it best he look too. The Director looked stunning, no doubt about that, and McGee caught Gibbs giving her a certain kind of look. When Ducky took her arm and they exited via the elevator, Tony decided it was time to leave.

"Alright! G'night Boss!" he said standing and subsequently falling into his cabinets and printer. Ziva and Abby were the first to his sides and put one of his arms each around their shoulders.

McGee rushed and took over for Abby. Ziva and McGee escorted Tony to the elevator. When the next one came to their floor Abby rushed over and came down with them. They left the building with the night security guards wishing Tony good luck and best of health. They got him settled in the passenger seat, seatbelt on, and the door softly closed with Tony tucked in.

"Now Timmy, remember that Tony's hurt, so take it easy." Abby ordered. Then she paused, looked over at Ziva, and then back to McGee. "Sorry Tim, for a minute there I had you confused with Ziva. Anyways, please make sure he's comfortable before you run off."

"I got it Abby, don't worry. I'm not Ziva." McGee replied as he got into the passenger seat.

"You know, I do not appreciate the way you say that." Ziva commented.

When he drove off Abby stood outside waving until the car was out of sight. McGee passed the security checkpoint with no problem and followed Tony's mumbled instructions to his apartment.

McGee parked in the spot that Tony pointed out as his. Tony started to slowly sit up and fumble with the seatbelt.

"Hey, wait a second Tony, let me help."

McGee batted away Tony's hands and undid the seatbelt for him. Then he got the keys out of the ignition and ran around the car to the passenger side where he opened the door for Tony and helped him out.

"It's alright Probie, I got this. I feel better already." Tony said as he wobbled forward.

"I promised Abby I would get you settled, and so I will. If I don't she'll somehow find out and chase me down and kill me without leaving any forensic evidence."

"Yeah, Abs is pretty scary when she wants to be." Tony agreed with a grin that turned into a grimace as his bruises throbbed.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs." McGee said, his arm looped around Tony's waist.

It only took a minimum amount of staggering to get Tony to the second floor and his apartment. McGee used Tony's keys to open the door and he directed the somewhat inert body of Tony DiNozzo inside. He kicked the door closed behind him and asked, "Where do you want me to set you?"

Tony, his eyes half closed, glanced around.

"Eh, drop me in the bedroom will ya, McProbster?"

McGee swallowed convulsively, suddenly jittery with the knowledge that he would see Tony's bedroom.

This was the bedroom that Tony took all his dates and where he had sex with them. That thought both cooled and brought McGee down.

He sat Tony on the edge of his unmade bed. The room was a lot cleaner than most people probably would have thought; especially for a guy that had a maid come every weekend. There were a couple of shirts lying on the floor in front of his closet and a pair of running shoes at the foot of the bed with dirty socks stuffed in them. Other than that, there wasn't a whole lot in the room that said, "DiNozzo."

"Are you going to be okay if I leave you alone, Tony?" McGee asked. He didn't want to leave. As a matter of fact, if McGee could have somehow gotten away with it, he would have stayed the night with Tony to be sure he was alright.

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine." Tony slowly started taking off his jacket, and tossed it in the corner of the room. "Think you can get me that aspirin and some water?" Tony asked.

"Uh, yeah. Sure Tony, be right back." McGee replied and left the bedroom for the bathroom. The bathroom was next to the bedroom, but not connected. He got into the medicine cabinet and snooped a little, inspecting the medicine bottles. There were a couple of prescriptions that had heavy duty painkillers, left over from other times that Tony had been heavily injured and sent to the ER. They were mostly full.

McGee started the faucet and filled a plastic glass sitting by the sink with cold water. He picked out the aspirin bottle and turned off the tap. With the glass and aspirin bottle in hand McGee headed back for the bedroom. He paused outside it, seeing a dent at about solar plexus height. It hadn't broken the drywall, but it was a close thing, having cracked it in the middle of the dent.

Once in the bedroom doorway, McGee paused; Tony had stripped himself out of the turtleneck and was left in a nearly see-through white t-shirt. He had also stripped off his shoes, socks, and pants, which left him in dark gray boxer briefs. Taking only a minute to see this, process it, and store it away McGee went back to Tony's bedside.

"Here's the aspirin and water Tony. Anything else I can get you before I go?"

Tony unscrewed the bottle and tapped out four aspirin, putting them all in his mouth and taking a swallow of water. He lay down with a sigh and relaxed into his pillows.

"That's very nice of you Probie, but I think I got it from here. No need to baby me." Tony slurred.

"What about that dent in the wall? You might want to get it fixed before it turns into a leak or something." McGee commented.

Tony, whose eyes had been closing and body going completely limp, went rigid and his eyes flew open to stare at McGee. The lids squeezed shut, Tony's body didn't relax, and his hands clenched in the sheet that he lay on.

"Don't worry about it McGee. It was an accident."

"Did you put your fist in the wall or something? Because that's what it looks like." McGee asked, extremely curious now.

"Drop it Probie. It's nothing that can't get painted over." Tony said through clenched teeth. "Now get out and leave me alone."

"Come on Tony, I'm just worried –"

"I said get out McGee!"

McGee couldn't help but jump as Tony yelled at him. One of the first real signs of anger since Kate's death. Then McGee remembered that he was a Special Agent, one that had grown something of a spine, and straightened up.

"Fine. I'll see you at work tomorrow. Goodnight." McGee politely stated.

Tony expected the door to slam behind McGee. Heck, it was something he would seriously consider. Instead, he barely caught the sound of the door closing.

"Dammit." Tony muttered to himself. "Dammit!"

He looked over at his nightstand, at the medicine and water, and his key ring.

"Anthony DiNozzo, you are an asshole."

In his minds eye, he saw McGee as he stood in his bedroom. He saw McGee looking patiently concerned, ready to help at a moments notice. It was that look that made Tony think that McGee cared, at least until he royally screwed it up. He wanted to wake up in the morning and have everything back the way it was. That was the good thing about sleep; Tony could go to bed having the made the worst mistake of his life, but could always go to sleep with the hope that tomorrow would be better, since it couldn't be as worse as the day he just had.

Maybe it was time to purposefully ignore one of Gibbs' rules and apologize to McGee tomorrow. That would certainly make the day better.


	3. I Speak Your Name

**Disclaimer:** I am neither the creator or producer or director or anything of the magnificent NCIS. So obviously I don't own or hold rights to it. This here is a work of utter and complete fiction except for the bits that I transcribed from episodes.

**Spoilers:** None

**-NCIS-**

_In sorrow I speak your name_

_And my voice mirrors my torment_

It was just Tony's luck that McGee spent all of their relatively short day downstairs in Abby's lab fixing something or other extremely technical. And of course sometime during all of that he managed to finish his report (before Tony) and leave without anyone seeing him. So that meant Tony never had the chance he wanted to see McGee and apologize for being a real pain, or at least allude to the fact that he was sorry for being a real pain.

This of course meant that Tony sat outside McGee's apartment, another headache thumping between his temples, staring up at the complex and wondering what the hell he was doing. As he got out of the car he thought to himself, 'Why the hell not?'

He'd been to McGee's apartment before. Of course that time had been with Kate and he had picked the lock. He smiled, remembering how they had messed with him, going through his things and picking at his décor. That had been a good morning. The smile disappeared though when Tony brought to mind the exact reason why he was here this time. This time was much more serious, no room for error, and it wasn't exactly appropriate to ruffle McGee's feathers at this point.

In front of the door Tony self-consciously ran a hand through his hair and straightened his coat. Then he knocked.

He heard footsteps moving in the apartment, coming closer to the door, pausing in front of it, waiting a few seconds more as if making a decision, and then finally undoing the locks and opening the door. McGee, dressed in sweats and an MIT shirt, glared at him from the small opening in the door.

"What do you want Tony?"

"I wanted to talk." Tony evenly replied, trying to insert some sort of regret or remorse in his voice.

"About what?" McGee's voice was still hard, still uncaring.

"About how big of an ass I was last night."

Tony could practically see the little circuit boards and wires inside McGee's head buzzing with electricity. While his face was still unyielding, McGee opened the door wider and stepped aside to let Tony in. He was barely inside before McGee shut the door, nearly catching his arm, and stalked over to his computer station. One of the monitors had some sort of game on the screen which McGee started to play while Tony stood there. He had no idea where to start and was a little put out that McGee wasn't paying direct attention to him. But then again, he was the one coming to beg for forgiveness.

Sort of. Something like that anyway.

"Tony, if you're not going to say anything then leave."

It was some sort of killing game; McGee had rounded a corner and knifed a guy dressed all in black, killing him in seconds.

"I came over to… to say I'm sorry."

No pause in play; McGee entered a warehouse, rounded some crates, and climbed up a ladder. Apparently things wouldn't be quite as easy as an, "I'm sorry."

"I was in a bit of pain last night, and that made me kind of cranky. The dent in the wall is a sensitive subject." Tony waited for something from McGee and got nothing. "I'm not used to room service and people prying."

"What about your maid? Aren't they supposed to clean as well as snoop? Or do you occupy her with other activities?" McGee sneered. Who would have thought that little Timmy McGee was actually capable of sneering?

"Listen Probie, I really am sorry." Tony stated, moving to stand behind McGee's chair and deciding to not touch those sentences with a ten foot pole. He could see his reflection in the monitor from this angle.

McGee paused his game and whirled around in his chair. He stood up and invaded Tony's personal space in a wonderful imitation of Gibbs.

"I take a lot of crap every single day from you. It wouldn't kill you to at least show a little genuine gratitude when all I'm trying to do is help."

Tony watched McGee's eyes, seeing the light green irises flash and shimmer as he spoke. Those two sentences held Tony enthralled with McGee's eyes, and he watched them up until the point that McGee turned away and stormed off to his kitchen. In typical DiNozzo fashion he felt aroused at the most inappropriate moment. While McGee had his back turned, searching around in the fridge for God-only-knows-what, Tony reached down and adjusted the crotch of his pants. He hoped the jeans were a loose enough fit that McGee wouldn't notice, or at least that he was distracted enough to not notice.

The fridge closed and McGee had a can of Coke. He popped the tab and took a couple of gulps before heading back into the living room.

"Do you really want to know how the dent in my wall got there?" Tony asked, moving away from the computer station and glancing at the books on the shelf in the middle of the room.

McGee, about ready to sit back down and continue his game, instead turned away from it and faced Tony. "You really mean that?"

Tony's hand ran across a couple of the spines, buying himself time. He hated this kind of stuff; maybe that's why he had commitment issues and couldn't stick with one girl. So instead of vacillating on his decision and running off on a tangent Tony decided to just jump right in.

"The night of Kate's funeral I lied on my couch and tried to watch _Magnum_. I say tried because I couldn't even though it was a really great marathon that would be on until midnight I was on the couch drinking. Just beer, no liquor. When I got up to throw the bottles away I got pissed and threw one of 'em at the wall. Hence, the dent."

Tony blinked, not really seeing the titles on the book spines, but seeing that night when he first realized that he really really liked the Probie in a non 'just friends' kind of way. When he turned to check out McGee's reaction he noticed that he had sat down his Coke and moved a lot closer. Uncomfortably close.

"I'm sorry Tony."

He just shrugged and avoided looking at McGee. This was just getting too personal. Too close. Too much of Tim McGee, too much of what he desperately wanted but couldn't have.

"It's alright McGee. I just never got around to getting it fixed." he sighed and cut his eyes to McGee's face. It had that concerned look again but muted. Tony could still see it though and he ached for it to be fully released on him. He wanted McGee to be concerned, because that meant he cared, even if it was just the caring of a friend to a friend.

They were silent, and Tony knew he had stood silent too long just looking. He couldn't help it, and McGee wasn't looking away, and Tony just _wanted_ way too damn much.

"It was terrible, how Kate was murdered," Tony took a couple steps closer, "and then Ari came after Gibbs in his own house. Then her funeral," some more steps toward McGee, "and seeing her parents and brothers crying for her and being in her hometown." Tony stood right in front of McGee, so close that he could just barely smell the Coke on his breath, "Then the jazz, which was so totally Abby and riding in the limo with the Director trying to be one of us."

McGee huffed out a near-quiet, "Yeah."

"We were all just so damn sad, and then –" Tony cut himself off and reached out, steadying himself with his hand on McGee's shoulder, almost the same height as his own.

"McGee…" he whispered, feeling his anguish at the utter stupidity and irony of his situation.

"Yeah Tony?" McGee replied, memorizing the just under Tony's eyebrow (could have permanently ruined his eyeball), the dark bruising under his eyes (made him look restless and desperate), and the swelling along his jawline (would have made him look like a chipmunk if it was further up).

Tony inhaled, ready to spill his guts down to when he gave that second grader a swirly, before he realized that this was _Tim McGee_ he was getting ready to spill his guts to. _Tim McGee_.

So he did what Tony DiNozzo did best; grinned and endured the ache in his chest.

"Thanks McGee. You're a real pal." He clapped him on the shoulder and before McGee could reply with even a 'thank you' Tony was out and down the stairs.

McGee vaguely heard a car start up and peel out; he knew it was Tony's, right in his gut where Gibbs always knew whether something was hinky with a suspect or not. It was also how he knew that Tony was going to do more than just say 'thanks' before something in his eyes died and he ran out like a bat outta hell. He slumped into his computer chair, ignoring the message that had popped up on his game screen and started beeping.

"Tony, you moron." McGee muttered to the carpet. "Why can't you just -?"

With a sigh McGee got up and thought that now would be a good time to go to bed.

Tony thought that if he went home he would do something he would dearly regret, so instead he went to a bar. His face, bruised and cut as it was, attracted a slightly different clientele of women that wanted a bit of DiNozzo charm. Needless to say he didn't go back to his apartment alone; Tony ended up doing something he would only hate himself for a couple of weeks for. He added on an extra week because when he fucked her, he saw Tim, and for a minute exhaled his name.


	4. I Give In

**Disclaimer:** I am neither the creator or producer or director or anything of the magnificent NCIS. So obviously I don't own or hold rights to it. This here is a work of utter and complete fiction except for the bits that I transcribed from episodes.

**Spoilers:** 3x12 "Boxed In"

**-NCIS-**

_Surrender, I give in_

_Another moment is another eternity_

"You missed a little spot by my left ear there. I'd do it myself, but my wound here prevents it." said Tony, completely hamming it up.

"What wound." McGee grumbled, "It's a two inch scratch."

"I was grazed by a bullet. Another six inches to the left and BAM! No more DiNozzo." Tony looked up, "Under the chin too."

"You know what, I'm done. Do it yourself." McGee retorted, putting the mirror and wet cloth on Tony's desk.

As McGee walked back to his desk Tony replied, "Fine; just don't come to me lookin' for sympathy the next time you get shot."

"Okay, you did not get shot. I talked to Ziva; you cut it on a wooden box."

"Hey!" Tony dropped some files on his desk and stood, closing the distance between himself and McGee, "There was a lot going on in that container. Nobody's exactly sure what happened. All I know is that I was running for my life in a hail of gunfire."

McGee rolled his eyes.

**-NCIS-**

Ziva had stayed a little late after cooking him dinner; the Italian was amazing and, what with the after-dinner flirting, pretty much made up for the huge joke at his expense. She finally left around midnight, leaving a wined and dined DiNozzo in her wake. Tony sighed in happiness; there were only a few things he loved better than good food. Unfortunately he was too tired to sit through a movie and it was too late for him to go looking for a bed partner. Besides, either would be too much of a hassle in his condition.

McGee was right in that it wasn't that big of a wound. But like a paper cut, bullet grazes stung like hell and would flare up under the smallest provocation. He was extra careful getting ready for bed and in the morning, getting ready for work. Showering was quite an interesting experience, as always, when one had a bandage that wasn't supposed to get wet.

It was paperwork day. Typical for a government outfit like NCIS the day after a case was closed the team spent filling out all sorts of statements, reports, and routine forms that came with catching the bad guy. Tony went a little slower than usual, trying to type with a bum arm. No matter how much Ziva and McGee griped at him for nursing his small wound, Tony was adamant in trying to be gentle with it.

The day ended somewhat early; Gibbs decided that when they were finished with the paper pushing they could leave for the day. It was barely 1530, quite early for them to be knocking off, but no one was going to complain. Tony was able to drive his car safely back to his apartment, much to his own glee, and McGee was happy to get back to his typewriter and novel. Neither was aware that the other had them in the back of their mind, wondering what the other was doing with their free time. Wishing that they were together, doing something special.

In the evening Tony ordered his favorite pizza (pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese) and decided on a small movie night. He wasn't exactly sure what to watch, but figured by the time the pizza arrived he would have a good idea.

As Tony got out a beer to have with his dinner a knock echoed in the apartment. He set his wallet on the coffee table on the way to the door and grabbed his wallet off the small table next to the coat rack. He opened the door, ready to get the pizza, and found McGee instead standing outside his door.

"Probie! What a surprise. What can I do ya for?" Tony asked, puzzled but nonetheless unwilling to scare McGee off. He was in a strangely good mood despite all the forms he had to painstakingly type out and sign that day.

"Well, I… Uh, that is to say, I…" and McGee stuttered bravely on, trying to form a complete and coherent sentence but failing miserably. This is what the delivery man came upon when he brought Tony his pizza.

"Don't mind him, he's just a little shy." Tony explained as he paid the man and gave him a nice tip.

The pizza guy eyed McGee suspiciously and left.

"You might as well come in and join me for some pizza. Maybe that'll clarify whatever it is you're trying to say." Tony invited graciously, holding the pizza in his good hand.

"Uh, yeah, sure." McGee mumbled and shuffled inside.

Tony shut the door behind him and rambled on about his plans for the night, setting the pizza box on the coffee table and getting out a couple of paper plates and an extra beer from the kitchen. McGee, still in his work clothes but sans a tie, stood awkwardly next to the couch, not wanting to take liberties by sitting down uninvited.

"You can sit down McGuest, the couch doesn't bite. It's actually quite comfortable once you get to know it." Tony explained as he set the plates and beer down next to the pizza box and flopped down in the middle of the couch.

McGee sat as far to the side as he could, being careful not to touch any part of Tony and his clothes. He accepted the two slices that Tony dished out for him and the beer with utter politeness. Tony didn't even bother with the plate he had grabbed for himself and just ate over the open box.

"So what's on your mind?" Tony asked around a mouthful of pizza.

McGee had only been nibbling at one of his slices; when he heard Tony's question he set the slice down and absentmindedly licked the grease off his fingers. Little did he know that that drove Tony wild, seeing a hint of tongue and watching McGee suck his own fingers, getting his full lower lip gleaming wet with saliva. To Tony, the only thing more erotic that McGee could have done in front of him was jerk himself off. Or suck Tony off. Those two were a close tie.

Tony shook his head slightly, trying to rid himself of those incredibly wonderful thoughts and concentrate on the McGee before him, not a fantasy one.

"Well, it's just this, I was thinking –" and McGee sputtered to a stop yet again. It was like there was something physically preventing him from finishing a sentence.

Tony found it cute, but of course he wasn't going to let McGee know that.

"What, McStutter? Cat got your tongue?" Tony asked playfully.

McGee growled in frustration, which went unknowingly straight to Tony's already mostly interested cock.

"You could have died yesterday Tony! You and Ziva both! There have been tons of times where you've almost died!"

Tony sat back, astonished at McGee's vehement declaration. "I just have all the luck in the world, Probie. Of course, that doesn't mean all of it is good luck, but I do have a lot of luck." he replied, totally nonplussed.

"But you're always getting yourself into these dangerous situations and worrying all of us, even Gibbs."

"It's not like I do it on purpose. Well, most of the time I don't. I try very hard to stay alive." Tony responded and his eyebrows furrowed.

McGee sat ramrod straight, his body turned to face Tony. Tony had also turned to face McGee, but he was much more relaxed with his body slouched back into the couch cushions.

"You don't get it!" McGee exclaimed helplessly, trying but failing to verbalize what he had come here to say.

"Well, explain it to me McGee. What don't I get?"

McGee sat there, his indecision plain on his face. He saw Tony sitting there, confused, but open and waiting for whatever it was he had to say. There was no hint of teasing or mocking, just Tony patiently attentive. It was the lack of Playboy Tony with the DiNozzo Charm that relaxed McGee into choosing the route of least confusion.

The space between them felt like an ocean to McGee as he closed the foot between them and leaned over Tony's sprawled body. He took just a second to take in Tony's still perplexed expression and then pressed his still damp lips to Tony's mouth. His dominant hand pressed into the couch by Tony's head to steady McGee as he softly moved his lips over Tony's. Tony was slack under him, mouth parted just the barest amount so McGee could taste pizza, and his eyes were wide and observing McGee's open expression and closed eyes.

In real time the kiss lasted about ten, maybe fifteen seconds tops. In kiss time it seemed like hours to McGee and Tony.

When McGee pulled back, he unshuttered his eyes and gazed at Tony with a look that he could not immediately identify. He didn't really have any time to either since almost instantly McGee jumped away and ran out the door. Tony stared at the door that McGee had shut quietly behind himself as he ran off, eerily like the time Tony had kicked him out. He reached up and touched his lips with his good hand, feeling them tingle beneath his own touch. They were wet too.

"Oh fuck, Tim. Why did you do that?" Tony asked the apartment. He looked down at the pizza on his coffee table; most of it was still in the open box. There were two slices on a paper plate with one nibbled on (Tim's) and a half-eaten slice in the box (Tony's) with its brothers.

Tony groaned and beat his head back on the couch cushions. It wasn't exactly effective in self punishment, but it was the thought that counted.

He looked down at his crotch and sighed. He was hard as a frickin' rock and he had only one idea on how to fix it. Hint: it involved bare skin but no cold shower.

"I hate you Timmy." Tony grumbled with no heat in his voice. It was more like resignation.

Which was understandable since Tony's good hand, which was not his dominant one, was fumbling with his belt buckle. He had to use his bum arm to help undo his belt and trousers, but he let it relax on his thigh as he reached into his briefs with his left hand.

"I'll have you know I have never had to masturbate with my left hand. Thanks for making this a memorable experience." he continued to complain to himself. He grasped his cock, hard and hot and leaking already.

By the time he started to jack himself, McGee was parked in a grocery store lot banging his head against his steering wheel and repeatedly calling himself 'stupid, idiotic, moronic, dumb' etc etc ad nauseum. About the time that Tony was gasping out "Tim!" McGee was at home, raging, "Tony!"


	5. Seek Me, Call Me

**Disclaimer:** I am neither the creator or producer or director or anything of the magnificent NCIS. So obviously I don't own or hold rights to it. This here is a work of utter and complete fiction except for the bits that I transcribed from episodes.

**Spoilers:** Slight 3x08 "Under Covers"

**-NCIS-**

_(Seek me) For comfort_

_(Call me) For solace_

_(I'll be waiting) For the end of my broken heart_

McGee lay in his bed, having finally managed to go to sleep after pacing his apartment, taking a hot shower, and a couple (fifteen) rounds of Counter Strike. He slept the sleep of the doomed and emotionally exhausted, which is rather deep and relatively dreamless. Unfortunately for him, the man of his affections had come up with a plan after he had gotten off. That plan meant that as McGee slept soundly, Tony had his lock-picking kit out and was breaking into McGee's apartment. Lucky for Tony, McGee didn't have the spidey-sense of Ziva or Gibbs or else he would have found himself deep-throating a Sig.

Tony quietly stepped inside and locked the door again behind him. He tucked his kit away and eased his jacket off, careful of his still healing arm. He figured that tomorrow he would be well enough to get the bandages off and suck it up.

He continued to make himself comfortable by taking off his shoes and tucking them away by the computer desk. The jacket he lay across the back of the computer chair. The screens reminded him of something he would see in Abby's lab; a bunch of a numbers and letters rapidly scrolling across the screen, looking like some sort of search program to him but for all he knew could be some sort of geek game.

Tony crossed the apartment to McGee's bedroom. The streetlamp light came in through the windows, softly highlighting the bed that McGee was curled up in. Tony had to watch his footing; McGee had left a few magazines and some computer bits out. When he finally tip-toed around all the knick-knacks Tony kneeled at the bedside. The way McGee was curled, his covers were all tangled in his legs and he slept with his face on one hand and the other tucked under his chin. It reminded Tony of those little kids you always saw on TV and gave him the warm fuzzies.

"McGee." he whispered. "McGee."

No movement from the body on the bed.

"McGee, wake up!" he whispered a little louder. "Tim. McGee!"

That got a twitch out of McGee's entrapped legs.

With a sigh, Tony switched to the name that always got a rise out of his teammate.

"Probie!"

With a full body jerk McGee was awake. His eyes were bleary and the hand under his face had fallen asleep.

"Tooo-ny?" McGee questioned. "We gotta case?"

Tony chuckled, "No, I came to talk to you."

"Talk?" McGee was still mostly asleep and barely coherent.

"About this evening." Tony clarified.

"Evening?" McGee asked. "Evening…evening…" he muttered to himself, shaking out his dead hand and sitting up. "Oh! This evening!" McGee exclaimed, suddenly much more aware, and his neck and ears turned red though it was hard to tell in the near dark. He immediately started to stutter out some sort of explanation or excuse. It was hard to tell which since he could barely form a whole word, let alone an actual sentence.

"Okay, just stop. If we wait for you to make sense we'll be here either until it's time to head in or we'll get a case." Tony interrupted. "All you have to do is answer yes or no. It'll go faster." McGee nodded, flabbergasted and overwhelmed.

"Did you mean that kiss?" was Tony's first question.

McGee got a queasy look on his face, but nodded in the affirmative.

"So you like me."

It wasn't really phrased as a query but McGee nodded again.

"You've wanted to do that for a long time, haven't you?"

There was a bit of hesitation and eye contact avoidance, but McGee eventually nodded.

"Well then, that settles everything." Tony stood, and McGee started to freak out. He tried free his legs to get out of bed, but couldn't, and ended up just looking goofy as he struggled on the bed. Tony couldn't help but laugh, which embarrassed McGee and made him work harder.

"McGee, calm down before you fall out and crack those genius brains of yours." Tony soothed as he sat on the edge of the bed and reached out to help. Together they untangled McGee's legs from the sheet and comforter.

"B-b-but Tony, please, I'm sorry, I –" he urgently started to explain. Tony put his hand over McGee's mouth, which took a few seconds to compute in the geek's brain.

"Listen McSherlock, whatever you think I meant, forget it. For a baby genius, you have very little people sense." Tony condescended. "Now be quiet, and listen. Okay? Okay."

Tony slowly removed his hand and McGee sat silent and attentive.

"You said that you've wanted to kiss me for a while and like me. Now I'm going to tell you the absolute whole truth about the dent in my wall. Not to say that I lied to you before, 'cause I didn't, I just didn't tell you the complete story. I did drink the night of Kate's funeral and I did throw an empty beer bottle at the wall. But it wasn't necessarily because I was pissed. Well," Tony paused and ran his good hand through his hair, ruffling it somewhat. "I was, but in not just because Kate died. I was angry at myself because I started to fall for you." He held up the good hand, "Now don't say anything yet. I'm not done. I wasn't angry because we're guys or anything like that. I was angry because I'm me and you're you."

They both got confused at the last sentence.

"Let me rephrase. What I mean is I'm Tony DiNozzo and we all know how long I keep a relationship. And you're Tim McGee, you're like the baby of the team and all wholesome and pure. Seems like a recipe for disaster to me. I'm a fuck up when it comes to things like this, and if I got involved with you Abby would kill me and no one would ever find the body because I know that without even trying I would hurt you."

Tony sighed; he couldn't think of anything else to say besides, "This is a really bad idea." Which is exactly what he said.

"You know what you're always telling me at work Tony?" McGee whispered.

Tony shrugged.

"Don't assume."

That's how McGee and Tony came to kiss for the second time. They leaned into each other, lips and chests pressing together. Thankfully, this time Tony was an active participant, reaching his good hand up and cradling McGee's jaw in his hand, his thumb stroking along the cheek.

They ended up lying on their sides, heads on McGee's pillow. It was late and both were too tired to do more than make out; the mind was willing but the body was beat. Instead they lay with their legs entwined and hands up each others shirts.

"Actually, there's something I need to know."

Tony scooted close, his nose brushing against McGee's similar body part. "Fire away Tim."

"You didn't really, y'know, sleep with Ziva. Did you?"

"What?" Tony exclaimed, jerking back.

"Well, remember the assassins that you guys posed as? I was talking to the FBI agents that were watching you and they said that you guys were having sex for real."

Tony gaped at Tim, eyes wide, mouth moving but nothing coming out. A pained sort of whine eventually made its way out before the words did.

"I couldn't have sex with Ziva even if I wanted to. Besides the fact that she's way scary and not my type—"

"Tony, every hot girl is your type." McGee replied.

"Well, yeah, but I've been going more for fair skin and green eyes these days."

"You're such a suck up Tony." McGee muttered back.

"Yeah, and you love me for it." Tony smiled, moving back in and kissing the muttering away.

"And you owe me for a lot of things." McGee replied, muffled through their lips.

"I'll make it up to you," Tony's hand slid down and just past the waistband of the boxers McGee was sleeping in, stroking the prominent hipbone, "Somehow."

**-FIN-**

Here it is, the end. If you like this then wait a little while and my next McNozzo might be up in less than a week. It's just a one-shot, but it's a long one!

You may have noticed at the beginning of each chapter there are italicized words. They are not my own but belong to Killswitch Engage's song "The End of Heartache."

Love it? Hate it? See a tiny detail that I've goofed? Review and let me know!


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